Ah! Through Grief for Thee Mine Eyes Blood

Ah! through grief for thee mine eyes blood, every night and day, weep;
Those who know my bitter sorrow's secret pang for aye weep.

When they see me blood-besmeared by my bosom's red wound.
Pitying my doleful plight, the garden's flowerets gay weep.

When he viewed my bleeding heart, ruth had yon physician;
Quoth he: "Doth the cure for thee, Sick of love-dismay, weep."

Yet to me doth yonder Torment of the Soul no grace show;
For my plight do all my friends, who me thus sick survey, weep.

E'en as gazeth on thy cheek, amidst his woes, Ilhâmî.
Though his face may smiling be, his heart doth blood alway weep.